Dimensions
by The-Secret-Keeper
Summary: When an unconscious girl in blood stained muggle clothes turns up on Hogwarts grounds, the staff is confounded by her mysterious origins; and it looks like more than one person is looking for her. Eventual Snape romance, rated R for violence and sexual co
1. Covered in Blood

A/N: This is my first foray into the world of fan fiction writing, so please feel free to deposit your constructive criticism. Also, I imagine that this story will become very involved, most likely spanning 2 full years at Hogwarts. Hope you enjoy.  
  
  
  
Dimensions  
  
Chapter 1: Covered in Blood  
  
  
  
He found her crumpled, a quivering and bloody pile, at the very edge of the Forbidden Forest. He couldn't tell how long she'd been lying there, but it appeared from the dirt caked upon her still blood-sticky wrist wounds, she's crawled a few feet before ultimately collapsing. She wore muggle clothes, a once white collared button down shirt, turned a disgusting deep brown. The same blood that stained her clothing had matted her short cropped hair to the point that he couldn't tell if her tresses were red or simply discoloured by the gruesome dye. Her breathe came in shallow wheezes as Hagrid lifted her up and made quickly for the castle.  
  
********************  
  
The day's final rays of sunshine had been flickering behind the black curtain of the forest as Hagrid worked cheerfully outside his cabin, preparing meals for the corral of tele-kats he had rounded up for the year's first lesson. Tele-kats were finicky eaters, much like their feline ancestors. Some lounged listlessly, and others playfully batted at their own long, feathered tails as Hagrid sloshed the mixture of fermented pumpkin juice and chicken hearts into their shiny silver dishes. One by one they began to take notice of their meal, and the sound of thick blue tongues lapping greedily broke the stillness of the twilight.   
  
Hagrid wanted to make sure that the often temperamental felines were in a good mood come time for the students to handle them. The injury of a particularly nasty student at the beak of a hippogriff two years prior had caused Hagrid to lose some of his nerve where his classes were concerned. He had planned on playing it safe again this year as well, until Headmaster Dumbledore visited him for tea and treacle fudge a week ago.  
  
"Hagrid," said the esteemed Headmaster, after swallowing a particularly leathery piece of fudge, "I was thinking that you may want to start the year off with a more unusual member of the kingdom Animalia Magica this year. Some nights, I've heard the unmistakable call of a tele-kat issuing from the forest; if you could manage to coax a few of them out, it would be a rare treat for your students indeed."   
  
"Er, I don't know 'bout that, Professor," faltered the gentle gamekeeper. "Tele-kats, they tend ter' get a bit....touchy. I wouldn't want another accident..." Hagrid trailed off, his eyes beginning to mist at the memory of the incident that had almost claimed the life of his favourite hippogriff.   
  
"Is that still plaguing your mind, my dear Hagrid?" Dumbledore queried softly. He knew Hagrid's affection for what he liked to call his "wee beasties" was eclipsed only by his love for Hogwarts, and that the gamekeeper prized the safety of the young wizards and witches at the school over anything else in the world. That was why, he reflected, it is so important to reassure him in this matter. Why he'll end up playing such a large role in the days ahead.  
  
"I just don't want...that is ter say, I would hate if a child was to be hurt in my care again. And with all this..." he waved his gigantic arms expansively "other such stuff goin' on, ye' don't need ter be worrin' about a tele-kat snapping someun's hand off."  
  
"The 'other stuff' is precisely why I need you to make the extra effort in your classes this year. To take a few risks. As you know, with Voldemort's reawakening, the other professors are going to be concerning themselves with instructing students in self-preservation techniques. How to battle, and of course defend against the agents of dark magic will be the primary focus. We are, after all, at war." Dumbledore paused to allow himself a weary sigh. The tragedy at the end of last year's tri-wizard tournament had certainly taken it's toll. The professors, who usually spent the summer holidays relaxing away from Hogwarts, had be forced to confine themselves to the castle and the surrounding village. The long days and sleepless nights had been spent developing stronger magical protections for the school, and preparing for a year sure to be filled with more than a bit of pain and suffering. The students themselves would be reconvening classes a month early, in order to have the young wizards (especially those muggle born) back in the safe care of their teachers. The forces of evil were escalating fast.  
  
"Your responsibility, however" Dumbledore continued, "is to help remind our up and comers of how pure and beautiful magic is. These creatures that you love, they are at the core of everything we are. Let these magnificent beasts fill our student's hearts with wonder; let them take a break from all the dreariness to appreciate and enjoy the magical connection between wizard and creature. Teach them to care for something out of love, so that amidst their fear and uncertainty, they will not forget what the emotion is like. Teach them that there's more to who we are than warding off the darkness." Dumbledore's voice broke toward the end of his speech, belying his usual calm delivery. Hagrid could tell that his treasured Headmaster's heart was heavy.  
  
The summer had indeed been a difficult one, but the jaunty gamekeeper remained blessedly free of the pervasively sombre cloud that seemed to hang about the school. It wasn't that Hagrid was unconcerned about the rising of the dark lord; far from it. He simply had every confidence that Albus Dumbledore, widely regarded as the greatest wizard of all time, would see them through the crisis. His only fearful thoughts lingered from time to time on young Harry Potter, a student and a dear friend, and the role he had yet to play in the dark lord's demise.   
  
"Aye, but Dumbledore seys I got an import'nt part ter play, and I'm proud ter play it!" he thought aloud as he ladled the last bit of pungent feed into a tele-kat's glistening dish. A smattering of stars began to twinkle in the sky over head, and as Hagrid rinsed his hands at the pump, her heard the familiar whine of his hound Fang. Fang was a few feet away, heading toward him from the Forbidden Forest in an agitated state.   
  
"Whas' der matter, Fang?" asked Hagrid as he absentmindedly patted the huge hound's head. For a beast of his immense size, Fang was quite the coward.  
  
The petting did not calm him, however, and as Hagrid inclined his head toward the Forbidden Forest, he noticed the hound's reason for discomfort. On the outskirts there lay a heap the size of a small human.  
  
"What der heck?" he muttered under his breath, as he strode off to investigate.  
  
********************  
  
Hagrid broke into a full run, nearly tripping over his own thick giant's feet as he attempted to double his speed toward the castle. The nearly lifeless body bobbed helplessly against his chest. The castle stairs were taken two at a time in his haste, and as he rammed his shoulder into the heavy door he nearly toppled a very perturbed looking Professor Snape. The Potion's Master was about to spear Hagrid with a cutting remark when he noticed the pathetic bundle the man was cradling.  
  
"What, or who, is that?" Snape spat with disgust, not able to take his eyes off of the bloody mass.  
  
"I...don't....know...Professor," managed an out of breath Hagrid. His voice shook with emotion. "Found her by the forest, gave poor Fang a fright. Professor, I never seen somethin' so..."  
  
"Do stop the blubbering, Hagrid!" yelled Snape, aghast. "Take...that to Poppy, and I'll fetch the headmaster." After issuing the command, Snape whirled around and made off towards Dumbledore's quarters. A still quaking and gasping Hagrid fled to the infirmary.   
  
"Jus' hold on there, girlie." Hagrid hoarsely whispered. "Jus' hold on."  
  
********************  
  
"Do any of you recognise this girl?" asked Dumbledore of the assembled. Professor's Snape and McGonagal, along with medi-witch Poppy Pomfrey, clamoured around the mysterious girl's bed. Her blood stained lineaments had been replaced with a clean white hospital gown, though her scalp remained caked in red. One by one, they each shook their heads.  
  
"What is your prognosis Poppy?" Dumbledore queried further.  
  
"Well," answered Madame Pomfrey, nervously adjusting the folds of her cornflower blue robe. "The wounds on her wrist appear to be self inflicted. She lost a great deal of blood, but I gave her a transfusing draught that should cause her remaining blood cells to multiple. Rapidly."  
  
"Is that why she's unconscious? The blood loss?" questioned Professor McGonagal.  
  
"Erm, no," answered Madame Pomfrey. She cleared her throat, and continued. "You see the blood in her hair? Her skull is mildly fracture, there on the side..." she adjusted the girl's hair so that the other's could see. "The bone healed without difficulty, but the blow knocked her unconscious. The wand scan didn't reveal any major brain trauma, but we won't be sure until she awakes."  
  
"So someone attacked her?" pressed Dumbledore.  
  
"I thought about that, headmaster. But I also noticed a cracked rib or two here..."she gestured in the area of the broken bones, "and her left femur was also fractured. You see? All on the left side. Judging by the position of the breaks, I'd say that she wasn't assaulted...rather, she fell."  
  
"Fell?" asked a concerned Professor McGonagal. "Are you saying that this poor girl tried to...to terminate herself?"  
  
Snape let out a snort of laughter. "Yes Minerva," he countered sarcastically. "This wretched little creature sliced open her wrists, and when that failed to do the job, she tossed herself off a balcony somewhere. No no, suicides don't routinely come crawling out of the Forbidden Forest. There is another explanation."  
  
"Snape, however discourteous in his assertion, is correct," replied Madame Pomfrey, while shooting a disapproving glance at the smug Professor Snape. "Notice that the cuts are further up the wrist, and that they are horizontal instead of vertical. The wounds were not inflicted with the intent to kill. Also, judging from her other injuries, I doubt the precipice she tumbled from was high enough to produce a fatal drop. Unfortunately, I can't offer you any explanations. We'll just have to ask her when she wakes up." The medi-witch's voice took on a tone that the other's recognised as annoyance at having her patient disturbed. They filed out of the room, perplexed, leaving with more questions than answers.  
  
"Please inform me as soon as the girl regains consciousness," requested Dumbledore, before he slid out the infirmary door.  
  
********************  
  
In the ruins of a dank Bulgarian castle, an ominous sound could be heard echoing through the corridors. A hiss, silky and intoxicating, wafted around the corners until it met with the ears of one Peter Pettigrew. Knowing the call of his master, Peter made a mad dash to Voldemort's sitting room.  
  
"You h-h-have need of me, m-m-master?" Petigrew stammered.  
  
"Come closer," the dark voice whispered, sending cold chills down the servant's spine.  
  
"I want you to dispatch 3 of my loyalest Death Eaters, one to Hogwarts, one to Durmstrang, one to Beauxbatons. There is...a presence. Something...strong. Something powerful. I want them to locate this presence. It," the dark lord paused. Eerily translucent eyelids slid down over his fierce red slits as he contemplated his vision. "She". Yes, she." He smiled maniacally. "She will be found. She will be brought to me."  
  
"Is t-t-this, erm, girl," the servant began, "is she a threat to your r-r-reign."  
  
The dark lord Voldemort threw back his head, shaking tendrils of ebony black hair as his face contorted in unnatural laughter. "Nooooooooo" came the hissed reply. "She is the key. She will bring about their undoing. "She, he lowered his voice, accentuating every syllable, "will make the universe scream." 


	2. Something's Happened Here

A/N: If you read, please review!  
  
Summary: When an unconscious girl in blood stained muggle clothes turns up on Hogwarts grounds, the staff is confounded by her mysterious origins; and it looks like more than one person is looking for her. Eventual Snape romance. Rated R for violence and sexual content.   
  
  
  
Dimensions  
  
Chapter 2: Somthing's Happened Here  
  
  
  
In the back seat of a typical soccer-mom SUV, a little girl's heart was palpitating with excitement. Today, Hannah Rothchild would be paying a call upon her favourite person in the whole wide world; her older sister.   
  
Gravel crunched nearly soundlessly beneath the tires as the Ford Explorer rolled into the space directly in front of the modest apartment building. No normal person could have heard it, but the hyper-aware Hannah registered each and every snap, click, and squeak as her much anticipated journey drew toward it's end. Excitable nerves aside, the heightened perception was typical of this girl, who was, in fact, not your average 11 year old.  
  
The monolithic vehicle had barely ceased it's motion before Hannah's furious fingers wrestled with the door handle in a mad scramble to exit. In her haste, she'd nearly left behind the two remarkable red sunflowers she'd selected as a gift for her sister at the grocery store yesterday. Steeped in dye for days, the petals had taken on a fire-engine hue, while their centres and leaves transformed to a deep plum shade. Red being Sissy's favourite colour, Hannah knew she'd delight in them. She'd even taken the time to decorate the ceramic flower pot with some old T-shirt paints and plastic jewels she'd dug out of mother's over stuffed hallway closet. She had made a valiant attempt at two small winged figures, angels or fairies, smeared and crudely drawn with her delicate hands, representing herself and her cherished sibling.  
  
Mother wasn't going to give her youngest leave to depart however, until she'd gotten in one or two parting words.  
  
"Now you make sure and behave yourself Hannie," she began in her softly scolding tone. "I'm just going to go into town and do a little shopping, but if you need me..." she nervously hesitated, "for anything at all, you have my cell phone number."  
  
The eager child battled back a heavy sigh, though inwardly she cringed. Every time her mother dropped her for a gathering of the circle, she had to listen to this faltering delivery. Didn't she trust Sissy, who had such a large hand in raising her all those years ago, to see to her well being now? And given the nature of Hannah's little hobby, well, she was quite good about seeing to herself, after all.  
  
But mother continued oblivious. "Really, anything at all, that either of you need, just give me a ring."  
  
"Sure Mommy," came the terse reply. "Just be here at five."  
  
With that, Hannah hoisted the flower pot in hand, nudged the car door shut, and began hurriedly up the wooden walkway. Balancing the pot precariously on her hip, she raised her arm to wipe the small beads of sweat off of her forehead. The air was ripe with humidity. At time, the thick Georgia air was nearly impossible to breathe during the summer.  
  
"Be careful," mother whispered, more to herself than to Hannah. It was getting harder and harder, bringing her daughter to these shrouded meetings, never knowing for sure what happened behind the locked doors of that apartment. Every time she gave her dearest Hannie over to that strange and mysterious other world, she felt her slipping further away. It was hard enough watching her eldest fall under it's sway. She remembered the hours her first born had spent meditating over cryptic texts alone in her room, isolated, obsessed. The sting of the slammed door night after night still weighed heavily upon her heart. And it'd only become worse when Hannie joined with her sister. Their combined hunger for knowledge and power, coupled with their immense strength, should have probably been worth a degree of pride; it certainly made them a force to be reckoned with, at least. Still, if only Hannah hadn't been so young! Yes, it was difficult indeed, being mother to a duo of witches.  
  
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By all accounts, young Hannah could have been a photo negative of her sister in both appearance and personality. It was expected that her slim, lanky form would quickly overtake her sister's petite stature. Her head, crowned with wispy strands of blonde, already nearly grazed her sibling's shoulder. Sissy's thick burgundy mane stood in stark contrast, and her almost ominous looking almond shaped green eyes lacked the warmth and honesty found in Hannah's saucer like baby blues. And while Hannah's complexion was always suffused with the rosy tint of sunshine, breath, and life, Sissy had long since paled behind closed doors and stacks of books, more closely resembling an ivory hewn statue.  
  
Hannah liked to feel that it was her love of the outdoors, of nature, that had initially spurred her interest in the craft. She hand little patience for her sister's rambling texts, preferring the feel of warm summer grass between her bare toes to the seclusion of the magic library. Rather to be out, amongst the splendour and variety of the world; probably the most sharp discrepancy betwixt herself and her sister. She was the extrovert, at home even from the earliest age among her fellow human beings. Sissy stopped just short of being a recluse.  
  
Despite their differing humours, Hannah's adoration for her big sis remained unwavering. With a twelve and a half year age difference, she often felt like she was growing up with two mothers. Even when Sissy left for college, the two remained close. The bond only strengthened once Hannah began taking an interest in her sister's passion for the supernatural.   
  
"Almost a year!" Hannah reflected. A whole year since they'd begun. It had been just the two of them at first, and Hannah had progressed quickly under her sister's tutelage. One by one other women began searching them out, until their little coven had grown from 2 to 10. With more than a touch of pride, she thought of how she, being the youngest by far, was still only preceded by her sister in magical ability. Her thoughts rested on this as the door to Sissy's apartment swung open for her, the knob turning unaided and without sound. The door had been charmed to only allow admittance to a select few. Immediately, Hannah was hit with a wave of something like nausea. She had to pause for a moment to shake off the light-headedness.  
  
"Weird," she muttered to herself. Snatches of last night's disturbing dream flooded her mind; a blinding flash of light, a room trembling, her sister's face...but it was all too hazy to make out. She had shrugged it off as overactive imagination. One of the foremost lessons learned by any decent witch is not to over interpret dreams and other such supposed "omens." The human mind is a tricky contraption, and can often be misleading. And while her connection with her sister allowed her to feel any danger that may befall her, if she'd been experimenting with magics strong enough to cause her any harm she'd have given Hannie fair warning.   
  
Still, something within the child's psyche wouldn't stop nagging her. She could almost hear it, a hoarse whisper of "something's happened here" echoing through her head.   
  
"Siiiiiiiiiiiiiissssy!!!!" she called up the stairwell, elongating every syllable in childish fashion. No reply was forthcoming. Not unusual, as Sissy was often too engrossed in her work to take notice of the comings and goings in her own apartment, and with the charmed door doing it's job she hardly had a need to. As was often the case, Hannah was the first to arrive to the meet, and thus was responsible for rousing her.  
  
Hannah trudged up the stairs of the town house, towards the small second bedroom that served as her sister's magic library. The room was fortified with magic, and it was either in there or in a special clearing in the forest behind the apartment that their weekly gatherings took place. She had to stop again, halfway up the stair, to fight off the growing feeling of trepidation that crawled through her system. "Something's happened here," but this time the words fell from her own lips.  
  
"Sissy?" she ventured again, this time with a slight quaver to her voice. Gone was the light hearted enthusiasm she had displayed as she bounded up to the door. Replacing it was the disconcerting notion that something had gone terribly, terribly awry.  
  
Shaking herself out of her trance, Hannah tiptoed cautiously but briskly up the remainder of the steps. The door to the magic library was slightly ajar, and emanating from it was the most intense sensation....Power. Raw, unadulterated power.  
  
"Something's happened here," she squeaked, this time her words infused with fear.  
  
"Sissy!" she pleaded this time, standing outside the door, hoping against hope that Sissy would push it open and welcome her inside. After again receiving no reply, Hannah screwed up her courage and gentlely pressed against the door. It gave way easily with a creak or two; she'd been expecting it to be stuck for some reason. When it was opened wide enough for her to make her way into the magic library, part of her wished that the door had refused to budge.  
  
Her breath caught in her throat at the site. Eyes bulging from their sockets, she barely contained the rising hysteria as she surveyed the shambles of the room. It appeared as though there'd been a hurricane, or an earthquake, or both. Papers littered the floor. Dried tendrils of wax stuck in the carpet, having splashed out of over turned candles. One of the bookshelves leaned crookedly and haphazardly in a corner, having somehow been shaken from it's position, it's contents spilled about the room. Hannah, however, barely took note of the wreck. As the first tears bit into her eyes, she couldn't remove her gaze from the spell circle in the middle of the floor, the same circle she'd performed many a ritual. The circle, drawn in the carpet, that was now soaked crimson with blood. Sissy's blood.  
  
Dizziness began to over take the 11 year old, as the reality of the scenario sunk in. Her breath coming only in short gasps, her knees began to buckle. The flower pot with the pretty red sunflowers, those that she'd hand picked meticulously for her favourite person in the world, slid out of her grasp. The lovingly hand painted pot shattered on the floor as Hannah collapsed into the gore. 


	3. Waking Up

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, no money being made.  
  
A/N: What you see here was only supposed to be half of chapter 3, but as I'm having some trouble developing the Hannah/Helaena back story, I decided to post this by itself. I'll try to get the updates up in a more timely fashion henceforth, if anyone cares. =0)  
  
Dimensions  
  
Chapter 3: Waking Up  
  
"Why does that Poppy Pomfrey insist upon treating every patient as though they were the minister of bloody magic?" bristled Professor Snape, stalking through the corridor on the way from the infirmary.  
  
"Oh I don't know, Severus," replied Professor McGonagal sharply. "Perhaps it has something to do with human compassion?" She was still smarting from Snape's biting remarks in the infirmary.  
  
"Minerva, Serverus," Dumbledore calmly interjected, preventing the exchange from escalating further. "Quite frankly, I'm at a loss. If either of you have any theories that may serve to explain our mysterious guest's arrival, I'm all ears."  
  
Snape snorted at the characterization of guest, but made no immediate reply.  
  
"You know who?" ventured McGonagal. "It seems he's taken to his sickly sport with muggles again...maybe he left her here as a message, or some sort of warning?"  
  
"No Minerva," Snape curtly responded. A dark look pervaded his sharp features. "Were it the dark lord, I'm afraid she wouldn't have been quite...what's the word? Intact. That sniveling beast Hagrid would have been picking up pieces of her for days to come."  
  
Dumbledore whirled in front of a staircase, his deep purple robes swirling around his feet, and laid a hand gently on McGonagal's shoulder to keep her from responding in kind. She appeared to bite her tongue, then issued a deep sigh.  
  
"How is dear Hagrid holding up?" she queried.  
  
"He'll recover," answered Dumbledore. The poor lad, he takes things so hard. I had Professor Sprout escort him back to his cabin and brew him some pinna root tea. It's known for it's calming capabilities" It was almost funny, someone referring to the half giant Hagrid as a 'lad.' To Albus Dumbledore, however, even the oldest and largest seemed as children.  
  
"I am anxious to know your appraisal of the situation, Severus" said McGonagal, with more than a touch of exasperation in her tone.  
  
"While I am certain she was not a victim of the dark lord, I am not prepared to eliminate the possibility of his involvement entirely. " Snape replied in a soft, yet almost menacing voice. "After all, nothing less than powerful dark magic could have allowed her to apparate onto Hogwarts grounds."  
  
"Apparate, Severus?" shot McGonagal incredulously. "That's impossible, dark magic or no."  
  
"Then the only other possible explanation would involve the dark lord leaving her here as a trap. A decoy perhaps, or a spy. Knowing that the more, erm, overzealously sentimental elements at this school would insist upon nursing her to health. What do the muggles call it? A Trajen's horse?"  
  
"Ever so optimistic of you Severus," mumbled McGonagal.  
  
"At any rate," continued Snape, "I contend that we deposit her at the nearest Muggle hospital and be done with it."  
  
"Severus!" exclaimed McGonagal, this time unable to mask her disgust. "Do you honestly think that those bungling muggle physicians would be able to do a thing for her? Without magical healing she will surely die!"  
  
"And what a pity that would be," spat Snape sarcastically. He turned to make his appeals to the headmaster. "Albus, we are at war. If we are to defeat the dark lord, we must be cautious and prudent in decision and action. We cannot afford to take risks. By allowing that girl to remain, we may very well be putting the entire school in danger."  
  
"Your sentiments are noted, Severus," replied Dumbledore. "However, to assume the worst about an ailing stranger is taking a mighty risk as well. I will not have us adding to the death toll if there is something we can do to help. We'll simply have to be patient, and do all we can to hasten her awakening. Classes reconvene in a week; I would very much like to put this matter to rest by then."  
  
With a slight gesture of dismissal, Dumbledore ascended the staircase to his quarters and disapeared from site.  
  
As Severus Snape made his way to the dungeons, he couldn't shake off the disquieting feeling that had come over him the minute he'd first caught site of the mysterious girl. Something was....off about her. As he settled into his office and began diagramming lessons for the first few weeks of classes, he found his mind returning again and again to the unconscious woman in the infirmary. She looked to be in her mid to early 20's, with skin so pale it was almost translucent.  
  
"Why is it that I dwell so!" Snape cursed himself as he angrily dipped his quill into an ink well, spraying droplets of ebony liquid all over the desk. He had to fight off the urge time and again to revisit the infirmary, to peak in on her, to see if he could determine the source of his unrest by gazing on her one more time.  
  
"An enchantment it must be," muttered Snape under his breathe as he put away his parchments and readied himself for bed. "But I will not be drawn in!" He settled beneath the thick, downy covers of his bed more convinced that before that the unexpected visitor was a harbinger of evil.  
  
Professor Severus Snape got no respite from the apparition in his sleep either. All night long, the image of a petite, red haired female danced through is dreams. She whirled about, her skirts billowing as she she laughed a rather oddly hysterical, almost maniacal sort of laugh. The Potion's Master felt as though he were being drug along on some fantastical ride, almost like being caught in a particularly strong river current; engulfed completely, surrounded in a cool that was nearly intoxicating, advancing rapidly, when...  
  
Something terrible. A pain seized his body as Severus Snape awoke with a start.  
  
He couldn't recall what had occured within his nocturnal vision, only that he felt a sorrow so all consuming, a sting of loss so great, that it jarred him from his slumber.  
  
"Where is that dreamless sleep draught," he half spoke, half yawned as he fumbled through his private stores. Whatever it was that had troubled his sleeping mind, he didn't care to experience it again.  
  
Just as he was about to take a swig from the bottle, her heard a scream; high pitched, broken, and cachaphonous, that shot darts of ice into his blood.  
  
Instinctively he made for the door, and just as he over took the threshold he heard the unmistakable sound of a voice being magically amplified. A frazzled sounding Madame Pomfrey stammered.  
  
"P-Proffessers! Please, come quickly!! The, the girl, she's a-awake!" 


End file.
